Down The Rabbit Hole
by eep13
Summary: The fantastically classic tale of a girl who gets magically swept off in to the world of BBC's Sherlock Holmes. Although I will say it's developed into something quite different and unexpected. Enjoy :)
1. The Fall

**Hello all.  
Since the other story that I am currently working on is actually heavy, I thought it'd be nice to balance _that _out with a more cheerful tale. Please read and review! I hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

I was sitting in the living room of my apartment watching "The Great Game" for about the seventh time when my roommate came in.

"Alex." She said, throwing down her bags and falling onto the couch. "Worst. Day. Ever. _Seriously_."

I paused Netflix and looked over at my friend. Her hair was disheveled from her walk back in the rainstorm, a few folders had fallen out of her bag and their papers were now scattered across the floor. She had taken up the fetal position and was looking at me with a look that told me she needed ice cream.

"Well I'm not going all the way across campus Maddy." I said in response to her silent plea. "You were just out there. Besides, it's freezing."

"But I neeeeeed ice cream Alex." She moaned, sinking her face into a pillow.

By the looks of things, I could tell that she really did.

"Fine," I sighed. "but only because I'm _that_ great." I stood up and began pulling on my rain boots.

"Oh yes!" She laughed, and jumped up to find her wallet. "It was bad though, and this is necessary. The vents shut off in the chem lab and we had to be evacuated. I was working on that new memory stick in material science and I'm pretty sure I broke it because whenever I plug it into a USB it sparks. No damage or anything, just no results. It's frustrating like you wouldn't believe."

I stared at her wide eyes and the lines beneath them. Finals were coming up and Maddy was busying herself with a side project... But that was typical. I, wisely, had chosen a humanities major.

"Enough with your science. Let's go." We hurried out our dorm and down the steps, my computer firmly tucked under my arm.

"Why'd you bring that?" She asked, zipping up her coat.

"Hey if we're going all the way to Candon's I'm gonna finish Sherlock."

"Oh, which one?" She beamed at me.

"First season's finale. Let's go before the thunder comes." We hurried along the path. Other students were running about to class or back to there dorms. Suddenly there was a flash of lightning.

"Woah!" Maddy cried as a tree not a hundred yards from us burst into flames as lighting split it in half.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day Maddy, but I'm not dying for ice cream." I turned to run up the stairs of the Communicatios building. It was locked. Swearing obscenely, I kicked the door. Maddy had just reached the top of the stairs and more lightning was tearing the sky apart, thunder shaking the ground.

"This is insane!" She said, and I could barely hear her. The rain was like a loud roar all around us. "We only have this portico's roof and if the wind - "

But at that moment the wind did change, but luckily we were spared as it was blowing the rain away from us.

"Aren't we lucky." I said darkly, sliding down to sit against the stone wall of the building. We were effectively stuck until the murderous storm let up.

"Well hey, we have Sherlock." Maddy said timidly, pointing to my computer. I opened my mac and watched as Sherlock and John came up on the screen. "This stick." Maddy said, pulling her experimental memory drive from her pocket. "Could potentially upload the show so you could watch it on any computer, anywhere, internet connection or no."

"Let's not." I said. Maddy was a brilliant scientist, but I wasn't in the mood to have my computer subject to untested devices in the middle of a storm.

"Oh come on! I tried it on mine with word documents. Why not videos?"

"First, with these videos? That's illegal. Also, did it work on word documents?"

She didn't answer but instead quickly snapped the stick into the USB of my laptop.

"Hey!" I protested. We both watched as a code appeared on the computer. Then, the screen went blank and her stick sparked.

I turned slowly to my roommate, murder in my eyes.

"I'll pay for a new one." She said quickly. We glared at eachother a long minute and I finally allowed myself to smile.

"iCloud should cover me, and I didn't have much on the harddrive."

"Friends, then?" She asked concerned.

"Indefinitely." I said, and even laughed.

But then thunder struck and lightning flashed and Maddy's memory stick exploded in my hands; I was falling.  
Before I lost consciousness, I remember vaguely comparing the tumbling sensation I was experiencing to that of Alice and her adventure..


	2. Awakenings

The cool rain fell gently, and I stood blinking rapidly at the dream before me.  
Black cabs whizzed past on the wrong side of the road, the streets were narrow and I stood on the sidewalk watching people in long coats pass me.

"What." I said, touching me hand to my face. The sensations, the smells - they were too real. It wasn't a dream. I felt a thrill shoot up my spine. There was a trunk at my feet. "This is not normal." I said, bending down and opening the latch. The wooden trunk opened and I saw clothes and shoes, a few books and a black jacket. I pulled out the coat and put it on. There was a letter where the coat had been, and I picked it up with immense curiosity.

_Dear Alex,_

_The world has become tedious, and whenever I  
can, I try to brighten it with magic. __I've noticed that  
__you spend many hours of the day dreaming. __Your  
head is ever filled with the most delightful of images, so  
__I took it upon myself to allow you to play out an adventure  
____in real life. _My dear, do enjoy the _London that I have  
sent you to. Make the most of your time __here because like  
any beloved story, the end comes far sooner t__han we should like.  
With that, I bid you a fond farewell. Perhaps our paths will cross,  
but perhaps not. And that is the way of things.  
_

_Good day to you! And Happy Travels,  
-**G**_

I stared down at the letter for a long time before I realized that the rain was spotting the parchment it was written on. And it was written on parchment, I noted, placing the letter in my new coat's pocket.

I stood in the rain thinking.

_So you've been magically whisked away to London... by someone who knows you daydream constantly. Well that could be any of your friends, but none of them are magic. Ok, this is really ridiculous. This is obviously a dream. G, though... Should I go find King Cross station and find that pillar to run into? No.. Wait where was I before I was here? I was with Maddy and... Oh God, I must have been struck by lightning. I'm probably in a coma. Or was that a dream?... Why... Ok if I'm dreaming I just have to wake up._

I stepped off the sidewalk and in front of a Bentley. The impact was terrific, though the car hadn't been going fast enough to kill me... I was sent flying a few feet and fell to the street with a dull thud. As I lie on the wet pavement, the pain coursing through my body told me that I was very much awake, and that this was no dream.

"Oh God, is she dead?" I heard voices around me. I tried to roll over but there were hands holding me back.

"Lie still! Oh, her head!" I was looking up at half a dozen concerned faces as blood trickled down my face and into my eyes.

"Ow." I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. It was too quick though, and my head took to spinning. I would have fallen back but the good citizens of London caught me and supported my head.

"Has anyone called an ambulance?" a woman asked.

"I'm fine." I said, sitting up slowly. They stared at me. "Really."

"Whyd you step in the street if you're fine, then?" A man asked angrily, looking frightened. He must have been the owner of the Bentley.

"Stumbled." I muttered, standing. The people around me protested. "No, _really_. Let me alone, please, I don't need a hospital."

"Americans." One of them muttered.

I grabbed the handle of the large wooden trunk and realized the ridiculousness of it all. Looking over my shoulder, the people in the street were all staring at me like I was a crazy person and, I have to admit, I was playing the part pretty convincingly.

I hurried off, dragging the huge trunk along behind me. WhenI cleared the corner I found myself on a busy thoroughfare. I looked around and the streetsign said "Baker".

I froze.

"Now how about that." I said, understanding.

If fanfiction had taught me anything, it was that if you ever find yourself at the scene of one of your favorite stories - go with it. I opened my trunk and rifled through. There was a purse and inside a wallet. I cracked it open; there were several bills and two credit cards, both of them black. My heart was beating at an incredible speed. I snapped the wallet shut and shouldered the purse.

Walking quickly, I found the address quite easily. Knocking on the door I waited, holding my breath. It was too good to be true. The door opened.

"Sweet Jesus!" I exclaimed. Mrs. Hudson started at my outburst. "Oh, I'm sorry." I managed quickly, trying to collect my frantic thoughts and giddiness. "Hi."

"Um, hello dear you're - your head is bleeding."

_Good, a severe head injury is an acceptable excuse for random outbursts at strangers. I'm in "Sherlock" London. Ok._

While these thoughts were passing through my head, Mrs. Hudson was adopting a very concerned expression.

"Oh!" I said, remembering what was happening. "Yes, I was just hit by a car."

"Goodness!" She cried. "Should I call - "

"No, please don't. I'm here about the flat. 221C?" I said this quickly and she stood staring at me.

"Dear, your head."

"Is 221C available to rent?" I asked as politely and normally as I could manage, trying to control myself. Mrs. Hudson looked hesitant.

"Yes, but there's alot of blood coming from your temple dear. I really think we'd better call an ambulance." I frowned, frustrated.

"Please, ma'am. I've come all the way from Chicago and I'd really just like to have a place to live. Being alone in a new city and all..."

"You've not even seen the - "

"I've seen pictures online." I said, getting annoyed by the complexity of the situation.

"Well... alright, I'l show you the flat. But while I do, I'm going to have a doctor called."

"That's fantastic, thank you!" My exuberance seemed to concern her even more, but she ushered me in. She led the way and opened the door to the flat. There was a living room, fireplace, small kitchen, bedroom and adjoining bathroom.

"It's 800 a month, but dear about that doctor."

"I'll take it, if you please Mrs. - " I asked, although of course I already knew.

"Mrs. Hudson." She said, finally smiling. "That's fine dear, but we'll worry about that in a moment. Dr. Watson!" She shouted his name.

I wanted to shout myself.

"Mrs. Hudson, it's a pleasure." I said, struggling not to smile hugely like a crazy person. "I'm Alex Laurent. And, um, who's this Dr. Watson?"

"Oh, he's up in 221B. He was an army doctor, and now he works at a surgery. Here he is now." I spun around so fast, I felt I might actually faint.

"Mrs. Hudson - oh wow." He said upon seeing my blood spattered face. "I'm Dr. Watson, you'd better sit down." I sat on one of the oak dining chairs obediently. "What's happened?"

"Well." Mrs. Hudson began. "She came to see about the flat, but she was hit by a car on her way. I think her head's been knocked pretty hard."

"Right." John said, sitting next to me. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Alex Laurent." I said dreamily. He nodded.

"Right, and -" He proceeded to conduct a concussion test. I even pulled out my driver's license so that my story could be confirmed. When he had finished he nodded.

"It seems to me you're tip top... and it seems we're to be neighbors." He had been very serious while conducting the test, but now he smiled warmly.

"Yes, if Mrs. Hudson would let me sign a lease." I said, and smiled my most charming smile at the good landlady. She returned the smile kindly.

"Of course dear."

I could hardly breathe from ecstasy. It was pure ecstasy.

"Well we'll have to have lunch together sometime to get to know one another." John said, and I wondered whether this was an innocent offer or _not_. "In the meantime, however, I have to be off."

"St. Bart's?" I asked quickly.

"Yes." He said, standing. "I'll call on you tomorrow, if that's alright?"

"Yes, and you can introduce her to Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson suggested, to which John smiled.

"Poor girl was just hit by a car, do you really think she needs more trauma?"

"Oh John," Mrs. Hudson said, patting his shoulder in a light, scolding manner.

"Goodbye for now." He said, leaving me alone with Mrs. Hudson.

I turned and smiled at her, in a sane manner this time. I'd managed to successfully suppress the raging storm of joy so that none of it was expressed outwardly.

"Now, Miss. Alex, I'll go see about that lease, shall I?"

She left and I thought I might die if I couldn't scream, so I allowed myself a manic dance in the living room. I stopped when I heard her footsteps in the hall.

"Here we are." She said and placed the lease and pen on the table. I pulled out one of my black credit cards.

"Fantastic."


	3. First Impressions

The trunk proved to be filled with everything that I really needed: Enough clothes to fill my closet and dressers, makeup to set in front of the mirror on the bureau, as well as the necessary toiletries and a cell phone. Once I had unpacked everything, I called the furniture store and had a new bed and leather furniture for the living room delivered. I ran out quick and wandered about the streets, in a rush to beat the movers back to my flat. I picked up silverware etc., towels and other accessories.

My new chairs and sofa were delivered at 7 p.m. and I spent the evening perfecting my flat. The walls were painted a lovely, rich red in the living/dining room, white in the kitchen/bathroom, and a neutral mint in my bedroom. I was practically bursting by the time it was 10 o'clock.

Lounging in my new pajamas, I groaned as the kettle whistled. It was a struggle to get up from my spot on the floor where I had fallen a few moments before, out of exhaustion. I'd been more or less sprinting about for the last few hours, working myself up into a delicious frenzy as I perfected the living space of my new fantasy world.  
When I reached the stove and lifted the kettle my hand trembled slightly, and I knew the day really had been too much for my nerves.

I just laughed quietly to myself, pouring the boiling water over my Sleepy time tea... cliche American move, I know, but one needs the comforts of home when swept off to an Alternate Television Universe, you could well imagine.

I was just mixing in the honey when there was a gentle knocking at my door.

I froze, a thrill of excitement spiraling down the length of my exhausted body as the fantastic possibility of Sherlock Holmes's presence on my doorstep registered.  
I slowly set my teacup down on the counter and turned, taking one controlled step at a time to the door. It was ridiculous yes, but I felt that I might literally burst into tears of happiness if I didn't maintain a strenuous control over myself. I placed my hand on the brass doorknob, attempting a deep breath to steady myself.

The door swung inwards and it was Mrs. Hudson. I felt my heart break in several places, but managed a dazzling smile all the same.

"Hello, dear. Just checking to see that you had settled in nicely." She peered past me. "Oh, I love the furniture."

"Hello.. yeah thanks, and I got a bed and a loveseat for my bedroom too so it's all coming together nicely."

"I should think." Mrs. Hudson said warmly. "Well, I was going to excuse my nightdress, but you're in your pj's too so I won't! But I'll let you get back to your night dear."

"Of course, thank you Mrs. Hudson. Goodnight."

She turned and I closed the door, suppressing a sigh. The lock clicked and I went back to my tea.

_That was stupid. Did you really expect him to come right up knocking at your door?_

My tea was perfect, so I sat in my new armchair and sipped at it until I was once again content with the world.

I had just begun to wonder why I hadn't lit a fire when a wave of fresh exhaustion swept over me. It was definitely bedtime.

Walking to the bathroom I was entertaining the application of time zones to my present situation when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I literally laughed out loud.

My dark shoulder length hair was wild, and my normally large eyes were extra wide from excitement. They shone with an impressive light and as I laughed, they returned to their normal size. Reality checks were obviously going to be a much needed, daily activity. I pulled my hair back into a pony tail and observed myself; Slender, but not lacking the right curves.

I had opened the taps and was just working the foaming cleanser over my face when I heard that same gentle knock at the door. I rolled my eyes with a smile and skipped to see what Mrs. Hudson had forgotten.

But of course when I opened the door, it wasn't Mrs. Hudson. That would have been much too straightforward an encounter for me; manic and worn out as I was. No, Sherlock Holmes in all of his tall, scarfed, trenchcoated splendor stood before me. I'm quite sure my eyes returned to their overlarge state.

"Good evening." He said, taking in my appearance with a none-to-subtle expression of patronizing surprise.

"Hi." I breathed, forgetting my manners entirely and focusing on my polka-dotted pajamas, and the bubbles covering my face.

"Hmm, I seem to have come at a bad time."

"Well," I began.

_Yes, practically the worst time ever... Stop Alex! First impressions are everything... OH GOD!... no. You're ok. No! Just... be cool._

"Yes," I finally said, blunt perhaps, but my tone was very blase and _cool_. If a single syllable word can sound cool... I don't know.

"Yes, well, sorry." He said, and his voice _in real life_ was basically the most amazing thing to ever come into contact with my ears. "I only just got in, and John had told me earlier that we had a new neighbor. But you're American, I see... University student, about twenty three... mid-western judging by the accent, upper middle class."

I had been nodding along with him.

"Quite right." I said, and there was a dramatic pause. _Nope. You didn't just say that. It didn't happen.__You definitely didn't just say "quite right" in an offhand British accent. There's no way. Not a chance. _But the strange look he was giving me verified that I had in fact made an idiot of myself.

"Um..." I managed, speaking normally (thank God). "Yes, I'm from Chicago and I go to Northwestern and... well just Yes to everything you said actually... My name is Alex Laurent." I would have extended my hand to shake his, but I had frightened myself out of such a bold move.

_JESUS, YOU HAD ONE JOB! WHY... just be cool.  
_

"My name is Sherlock Holmes, I'm in the flat above. And what, may I ask, brings you to London?"

"Oh, it's kind of a gap year thing. I've always loved London so... here I am."

"Of course. Well, I'll leave you to... yourself."

**Then he left.**

I stood in the doorway a while, gathering together all of my the energy so that I could close the door.  
The latch clicked and I trudged defeatedly back to the bath room, where I finally managed to rinse the soap from my face. I proceeded to throw myself onto my bed and it was a massive internal struggle to fight the urge to slam my head against the headboard. In the end, it was lucky that I was as tired as I was, so instead of indulging my stormy thoughts, I fell swiftly into the sweet, empty oblivion of sleep.


	4. Hard Hit

**Set post Hounds of Baskerville, btw**

* * *

I sat on a park bench, eating my sub sandwich, appreciating the cool rain that was falling.

Back home there was probably a half foot of snow on the ground, but the London weather was much gentler to its inhabitants. The wind was a bit nippy so I drew my collar up and reflected on my situation. It was terribly frustrating.

What was the point of being in Sherlock's world if all I ever accomplished was to make an idiot of myself?

It had been three days since Sherlock had introduced himself to me, and I hadn't seen him one time since then. I hadn't heard them upstairs either so my contemplation had me entertaining the possibility that I might have been brought here maybe as a mistake...

I had never known what it felt like to be dumbstruck until I was sitting on that park bench trying to understand why I was there. Existential Crisis-esq. yeah, but this was weird shit. I stood up as a wave of panic shot through me.

_What if you're just here as a result of some sort of freak accident?_

_What if there's no point to your being here? What if you're just supposed to be the murder victim of Sherlock's next case or something? Wait! The note._

The memory of the letter I had received from the mysterious G was immediately soothing. I fell back on the bench and breathed deeply the rain washed air.

"This is because you're a dreamer, and you're here to create and discover and explore. If your fate in this world has nothing to do with Benedict Cumberbatch's detective character... Alex, there are worse realities to be thrown into." Sitting there on that park bench talking to myself like a crazy person left me reassured. I even smiled

_This is an adventure Alex, and the first thing you have -_

But my thoughts were interrupted first by an explosion, then by three shots being fired. My eyes were wide as saucers as I looked at the scene before me. What had previously been a parked car lay in pieces, three people jogging through the park had fallen to the ground; two were moving and the third was behind a hedge, screaming.

I lept up and froze, fear paralyzing me. I shook my head and hurried to the nearest downed woman. She was clutching her shoulder and staring up at me with an expression of horror.

"Are you alright?" I asked. Her expression relaxed and whatever her response was, I missed it, because something collided with me and brought me crashing to the earth. I couldn't breathe, and my eyes were closed beyond my ability to open them.

...

Someone was shaking me and there was light but I couldn't see and I couldn't hear what a man's voice was saying. Then suddenly, the world snapped back into focus.

I was in a hospital, an IV needle stuck into my left arm.. my veins were searing.

"What is this?" I hit the iv bag away and as it flew across the room, the tube disconnected from my iv needle and yellow slime leaked all down my arm.

"That." a voice to my right said gently. "Was potassium. How are you feeling this evening Miss. Laurent?"

"Evening?" I asked, turning to see a very good looking doctor smiling down at me. He nodded.

"Yes. The park incident was about 5 hours ago. You were brought here to St. Bart's immediately and as far as we can tell you're alright, aside from a concussion."

"What happened?"

"You were attacked and struck in the head... but I'll let the police explain the details. It seems to be a sensitive issue."

"Why do you say that?" I asked, but the doctor shuffled uncomfortably.

"Again, I'll have to refer you to Detective Inspector Lestrade for any questions you have. Now, unless you have any medical questions?.."

"No I don't, thank you, if a concussion is all I'm walking away with."

"Right. Well, rest up. You can go home tomorrow, but tonight I'm prescribing bed rest." He smiled and turned to leave.

I watched him go. A nurse soon came in and reattached my iv. The potassium burned my veins, and I glared at the pale yellow bag. It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door and a familiar face peeped around the corner.

"Miss. Laurent?" Lestrade inquired. I nodded and he entered, smiling. "I'm detective inspector -"

"Yes the doctor said." I cut him off, rubbing my arm. He looked at my bandaged head and immediately excused my rudeness. "What happened, exactly?"

"Yes well... that's the question everyone's asking, isn't it. Let's start with what you saw." He sat at my bedside and I smiled at how kind his eyes were.

"I was sitting, then a car exploded. Three people were shot. I went to a woman who was dwned but before she could speak I was attacked. At least I think that's what happened... was I attacked?"

"Yes." Lestrade was staring intently at my expression. I realized I was still clutching my arm, and the pain was obvious on my face. I clenched my fist and tried to look completely comfortable. He raised his eyebrows at this change but went on. "It seems the explosion was a diversion. The shooter shot three times. Two men were hit; one in the leg, one in the arm. The woman you approached was hit in the shoulder... but that was a mistake. The assassin had intended to shoot her straight through the heart... which he did right after smashing your head in with the butt of his rifle."

"So that woman... she's dead?"

"Yes. The whole scene was staged to distract from a murder."

"Serial shooting to cover a murder?"

"Exactly."

"And the exploding car was a nice touch." Another voice offered. I looked over to the doorway to see Sherlock Holmes standing there, John at his side. He strode to my bed and picked up my chart, glancing over it with a look of serious interest.

"Sherlock." Lestrade said, and I noticed John was staring intently at me. "What are you doing here?"

"Investigating a serial shooting, murder." Sherlock looked up at Lestrade pointedly. I felt my stomach drop several stories.

They were all looking at me.

"So Alex." Sherlock said, using my first name in an offensive tone. "What brought you to that park this morning?"

"I thought it would be a nice place to have my lunch." I said.

"In the rain?" John asked. Now it was my heart that fell through the floor.

"Yes." I answered honestly. "I love rain... and back in Illinois it's literally 17oF and a blizzard so..." I trailed off, feeling terribly indefensible.

"Convenient, that there was a lovely park with a rainstorm for you to have your sandwich in just as an assassination was taking place." Sherlock said this to me, and his gaze was steel. I was actually afraid.

Was I now going to take the fall for a crime I didn't commit? That _would_ be my luck.

"I don't know what to say." I said, my voice weak. "I went to that park and then people were being shot... and now I'm here.'

"We found a cell phone in your jacket with a sent message containing the code used to detonate the car bomb."

I leaned over the other side of my hospital bed and threw up. Suspicious? Maybe, but the situation had me feeling like the world was collapsing in on me. Wiping my mouth I turned and looked at Lestrade who had apparently known nothing about this.

"That's impossible. I mean, I'm sure you did find - but it wasn't mine. Whoever attacked me must have planted it on me."

"Alright, alright." Lestrade said quickly. "Just rest. Sherlock," he said turning to the consulting detective. "Whatever else you have for her can wait. She has a concussion."

Sherlock cast me one more dark look, then strode from the room, John frowning at his side. Lestrade and I were left in a tense silence.

"Sir." I managed.

Speaking was difficult.

"Sir I... I'm just here on holiday from college. I study History and Communication Arts at Northwestern University. My father is the CEO of a lighting company in Chicago, and I've never had so much as a parking ticket. I'm good - I mean, I'm going to be a lawyer this... this is like a nightmare. The phone was planted."

_What if this is just a really elaborate nightmare? _I thought optimistically.

"I'm sure it was planted, but Sherlock seems to have more information with which to back up his deduction. Either way, I'm not condemning you yet." He smiled a bit, and that was relief enough.

"Thank you." I said sincerely.

"You get some rest, and don't worry. I'll see if I can't sort this out." His smile was warm now, and the way he was looking at me had color flushing my face.

"Thank you." I said again, quietly.

"Right. I'll let you rest. Goodnight." He left, and for a long time I sat in total silence as the room slowly darkened.

Things had certainty taken a dramatic turn. Sherlock Holmes thought I was a criminal, John looked almost convinced, and Lestrade was bound to trust Sherlock's explanation of whatever he thought had happened.

_This is not good._ I thought, scratching at my arm.

My head hurt, and I let my eyes close.

Yes, the situation that I found myself in was scary and uncomfortable, but at least it had caused a dramatic spike in the flatline that my life had become.

Something was finally happening to me, ridiculous though it was.


	5. Momentary Lapse

**Hey guys.  
Thanks for all of the reviews and comments, they're greatly appreciated. I love hearing what you all have to say(:**

**Anyway, I hope you're enjoying the story so far, and I hope you don't mind the lack of levity in this chapter and the last. The plot is set up enough that I think we can return to a more lighthearted storyline. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

The lights in my flat seemed very warm and comforting after the harsh glare of those at the hospital. Unfortunately, their charm was diminished due to the fact that Sherlock and Watson were standing in front of me as I sat on my couch.

I pulled at my navy-blue sweater, uncomfortable under the consulting detective's piercing gaze. He had invited himself in and in my state I hadn't been able to refuse my guests. Finally he spoke

"The only reason you're not down at Scotland Yard is because the phone is the only evidence that we have against you... Everything else is circumstantial."

"Everything else?" I demanded weakly. "What's circumstantial? That I was at the park? I can't have been the only one -"

"No, you were not the only other onlooker in the park, but you were the only one that ran to one of the victims... the one that the hit was intended for. Perhaps you were checking whether or not she was dead."

"Yeah, and then my partner pistol whipped me? That doesn't make sense."

"To be fair - " John began.

"Or perhaps you compromised the plan by approaching the victim, and they left you behind as a result of your mistake."

"Yeah, maybe." I said, finally angry. "Now will you get out?"

"There's also the matter of your credit cards." He continued, ignoring me.

"Wow." I stood up. "You've been through me things? I don't know why I'm surprised. Get out."

"Just who exactly are you?" Sherlock asked, leaning in. Fortunately, I was mad enough to be undaunted by the glare of Sherlock Holmes... a man I had once greatly admired. Now he had me falsely pegged as a criminal, and his charm was gone for me.

"I'm Alex Laurent. I'm a university student living in London for a while. Get out of my flat."

"I checked Northwestern's records. There's no record of you attending. In fact, according to your government, your family doesn't exist."

I stared at him.  
_But that's to be expected isn't it? This is a completely different universe I'm in so.._

"What exactly would you like me to say?" I asked, sitting down. At this point I had more or less given up.

"Who are you?"

"I am just who I say I am. And I had nothing to do with anything that happened in that park. Now please - "

"I believe her." John said. I didn't look up. I was too exhausted to show the proper amount of appreciation.

"Give me your hand." Sherlock said, taking my wrist cruelly. I tried to escape his grasp but he was too strong. So, I was forced to sit there as he stared into my eyes, measuring my pulse.

"Yes?" I asked, feeling my heart flutter at his touch despite the rage that I was currently fostering for him.

"What is your name? Your _real _name?"

"Alex Laurent."

"Where did you or do you go to university?"

"Northwestern."

"Did you know that any of yesterday's events were going to take place?"

"No. And that cell phone was not mine."

He scrutinized me a long moment then stood up.

"Alright." Then he left.

I sat staring after him.

"What the actual - " I began, but John sat beside me and put a hand on my shoulder.

"I know this has been stressful for you. To be honest, he should have waited for you to recover from your concussion. Still, he'll leave you alone now. He believes you." I just shook my head.

"So he really is a human lie detector? Wow."

"Yeah. As annoying as it is - "

"It is impressive, I'll give you that. Still, my head is fit to burst." I rubbed my temple and the good doctor nodded.

"I'll check in on you later this evening. And maybe I'll bring takeout and we 3 can sit down and get to be friends." At this, I had to laugh.

"Thank you John, but after the shooting and the concussion and the accusations..." here I had to stop. The realization of what I was going to say was pretty incredible to me. "I don't think I want to be a friend to Sherlock Holmes."

"Well I can see why you'd say that, but he's really got a good hear waaayy down beneath the intellect and cleverness and arrogance and-"

"John." I said, chancing a smile. "You can bring dinner if you'd like, but don't expect me to be thrilled by your friends company."

I honestly had no desire to see Sherlock.  
I understood why people were put off by him in the show, which was something I never understood unit I actually met him.

Well, something I had come to understand after he persistently accused me of being involved with a murder that I had nothing to do with, while I had a concussion no less. John went on with his proposal

"Alex, we are neighbors after all. I'll talk to him and we'll see how it goes. If he doesn't come, you and I will have a good time."

"Alright John."

"Great, I'll see you tonight." He stood and left.

I sat on my couch and let my new revelation float across my mind.

"Maybe if I wasn't so woozy, I'd care more." I muttered, falling back on my couch and into the abyss that is dreamless sleep.


	6. Glaçage

**THIS**

**is the turning point of the story. feel free to leave any comments or suggestions (reviews are always appreciated) because i like to get a feel of what you readers are liking or not liking and that'll help me take the story where it needs to go. YOU GUYS are awesome for reading and I Love You whether you review or not because you're awesome, all of us in the "Cumbercollective" (as Benedict so politely suggested we be) are. So on that note, enjoy!**

* * *

John and I sat at my dining table and I was relieved that he hadn't brought company.

"This is probably the best chinese I've ever had." I said as I popped a piece of schezwan shrimp in my mouth.

"I'm glad you have an appetite. That's a good sign in concussion victims."

"It's only mild." I smiled and John returned my smile in a warm fashion. He wiped his mouth and as he did a shadow passed over his face.

"Look Alex, because _he_ won't, I will. I'm sorry you were put through what you were. All of it."

"That's kind of you, considering the admittedly suspicious lack of my personal information..."

"Well, I trust you just as you are. I don't see a single lie in your eyes."

I looked at him a long moment. Finally I relaxed back into my chair. John was smart, but he wasn't brilliant and though I hadn't technically said anything that wasn't the truth_ wasn't my existence in this alternate world a lie?_

Regardless, I was too tired to attempt to unravel that cosmic riddle. Instead, I smiled and simply appreciated the fact that John Watson was a quality individual.

"I made a white cake, if you want a piece?"

"Yes, definitely. Please." He said, handing me his plate.

I went to the kitchen swapped our dirty plates for clean ones and was slicing into the cake that I was especially proud of and especially excited to eat when I heard John groan

"Oh, what could you possibly be doing here?"

"You weren't at the flat and it wasn't a far jump to deduce where you'd gone." I heard Sherlock's respond.

"But -"

"I heard your voice from the hall."

I grabbed another plate.

"So you just come barging in? You didn't even knock." John scowled at Sherlock who was standing in my living room, watching as I set the plates of cake down on the table.

"Are you _really_ surprised John, that he did't knock?" I asked, sitting down. John glanced at me and his icy expression warmed.

"No, I can't say that I am."

"Won't you sit down?" I asked my new guest delicately.

The detective immediately seated himself and took to staring at me. I matched his gaze - quickly realized the ridiculousness of it all - and simply turned to my cake.

"I have to say, this cake is divine." John offered.

"Thank you. Before my mother died we did alot of cooking together. "

"How did your mother die?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh for -" John began but I raised a hand to silence him.

"It's alright. She lept from a building when we were on holiday in Capetown. But that was a long time ago."

"What was her name?" Sherlock asked. John swore explosively and I felt color flood my face.

"Are you still investigating me? Really? You haven't found anything, and you won't. My mother's name was Ava... Now, are you going to eat your cake? Because if you aren't I don't see any reason for you to stay."

He gazed at me coolly, then slowly raised a forkful of cake to his mouth. It was then that his eyes left my face and turned to the cake in front of him, a look of genuine awe spreading across his face.

"Right!?" I exclaimed, laughing.

I laughed because my cake was delicious. Good enough even to shut Sherlock Holmes up. We ate our cake in silence.  
I watched Sherlock eat and I leaned back in my chair and realized with a strange sense of elation that I really didn't care whether I was here in BBC's universe or back home - I was just happy that I wasn't that woman shot in the park yesterday, and I was happy that I wasn't my mother.

"I'm just pleased to be alive, you know."

The two men looked up at me, obviously caught off guard. I just grinned.

"Do we want more? Maybe some milk?" I asked, standing.

And I really think it was then Sherlock let his doubts about my person dissolve. The fact that he couldn't investigate me or my life was a bother to him, but as we sat there eating cake he warmed to me. After a while John broke the surprisingly comfortable silence.

"So how long are you going to be in London? I know you're on a break from school."

"You know, I'm not sure. I might stay indefinitely. I _do_ have the means..."

"Well if you can you should." John said almost pointedly. I ignored his meaningful gaze.

"You said you wanted to be a lawyer." Sherlock interjected. "Given up on academic pursuits?"

"For the time being, yeah."

"But you're learned." He tapped his fingers on the table.

"Yes?" I finally said, confused.

"In what fields?"

"History, communications, art, psychology, literature, political theory... Why?"

The way he was staring at me made me more uncomfortable than when he had been accusing me of conspiring to commit murder.

"Perhaps you would be of use on a case, in the future."

"What?" John cried. "No, definitely not. Our work is dangerous." The last part he directed to me.

"Well -" I began, but Sherlock cut me off.

"There is an element of danger, yes. But the perspective of another bright mind could only help. Also, close proximity will give me a chance o deduce more about your character and your history." John was rolling his eyes at this but I met Sherlock's look very seriously. I definitely hadn't missed him calling me bright.

"Whatever your motives, I'd like to come along on a case, if there's not shooting or bombs or anything like that."

"You'll be safe." Sherlock said definitively.

"You can't guarantee that." John said heatedley. He then turned to me, "Listen Alex, when we're on a case things have a way of escalating quickly."

I laughed at that.

"Yes well... You know as terrifying as the park incident was, at the time I felt full of... a white-hot electricity. All of my senses were heightened. I don't think I ever felt more alive. And then when I woke up in that hospital room... After all that being alive feels beyond fantastic."

"And you'll stay alive if you keep out -"

"No John listen." I said as something clicked in my head. "The feeling won't stay. Everything's changed I think."

"How do you mean?" he asked, but Sherlock was smiling.

"She means that, having been subjected to the electrifying ordeal of encountering death on an almost intimate level... life is dull without it. Boring"

John's brows rose significantly but I looked at the consulting detective whose eyes were now shining. Mine must have been too because he actually chuckled.

"Sherlock." I said, finally smiling. "You're right. John I couldn't feel alive like I do today if I never had any more adventures... surely _you_ can understand that."

"Well... yes, but you-"

"No buts." I said. "It's all or nothing, and tonight I want everything." There was a long pause..

"How do you mean?" Sherlock asked, puzzled by the odd look on my face. I sighed, suddenly exhausted from my mental activity and the astounding nature of the ideas forming in my mind.

"Well first off, I need to sleep because this concussion is not a joke.. But tomorrow I want to go with you, if you have a case." Sherlock Holmes smiled wide at me.

"Brilliant."

After the two men left I fell into my bed  
contemplating the seemingly random nature of existence.

I dreamt that night that I was falling though pink iridescent clouds rimmed with gold, and though I was plummeting toward the earth where - unless there was someone waiting to catch me - I would die on impact, the only sensation that I felt was elation; the ecstasy of life.


	7. Goodmorning

**To answer a posted question, this story begins post Baskerville but it goes off on its own. Thank for reading(:**

* * *

A loud knocking pulled me from my dreams at 3 o'xclock a.m. and I almost tripped in my mad dash to answer the door, expecting Sherlock or John. I was surprised then to see a stranger glaring down at me from the entryway.

"Ms. Laurent."

It wasn't a question.

He grabbed my arm and covered my mouth and I was being dragged from my apartment by a large man in a black trench coat. I would have tried to fight him off, but he was massive and I was weak from lack of sleep and a pounding head. I blacked out halfway down the hall.

...

I woke in a lavish sitting room. Gas lamps decked the walls and the warm glow was soothing - for the briefest instant. There was a man sitting in the armchair next to mine, smiling demurely. I felt a shock of recognition and a thrill of fear as Moriarty chuckled softly.

It was a strange scene.

Me; in a white negligee, disheveled hair, and _him;_ dressed to impress in a Dunhill fitted suit, sleek and lethal as ever - all in a sitting room straight out of the 19th century. I gripped the arm of my chair, which he noticed. Moriarty immediately stopped his laughter and looked me full in the face.

"How are we this morning?" He asked, still smiling. The thrill of fear had subsided, and my mind was racing.

"A bit cliché, isn't this?" I managed to sound offhand but he wasn't fooled. His smile widened.

"_Life_ is a cliché. Allow me to introduce myself -"

"James Moriarty." I said frowning. "I know who you are."

"And I know who _you_ are. I've been listening... your dinner yesterday evening particularly caught my interest."

"I'm sure."

"You're a curious little thing." He said standing. "Can I interest you in something to drink? A slice of cake?"

"No, thank you."

He crossed the room and poured himself a cup of coffee. I watched, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"Who are you?" He said, raising his cup to his lips.

"Alex Laurent."

"Mmhm yes. Well Miss. Laurent, given there are no records of you existing, I really must _insist_ you be honest with me."

I looked at him for a long moment.

I was at his mercy, in my nightie no less... I wasn't neccessarily surprised that this scene was taking place, but I hadn't given it any thought, and I hadn't planned for it at all. I braced myself and decided to tell the absolute truth because.. Why not?

"To be perfectly honest," I began. "this is a television show. Or at least it is in the universe that I _do _exist in. I know all about you and your consulting criminal enterprise, and I know about your plan - with the bank and the prison and the jewels - to ruin Sherlock's reputation... and I know you're insane."

I added the last part when he threw his china coffee cup over his shoulder at my mention of his _Reichenbach Fall _scheme.

He stood staring at me for a very long time.

"Interesting." He said, crossing the room to take his seat beside me.

"Yes..." I waited but he said nothing. He just went on staring at me. "What?"

"I believe you."

There was a long and heavy silence. I hadn't expected that.

"Probably because you're insane." I offered.

"Yes. But what does that tell you about the relationship between sanity and reality?"

I raised an eyebrow. Shit was getting profound.

"I suppose sanity often rejects reality."

"Generally. But we of the insane variety _embrace_ it."

"I'm not insane." I said quickly, to which he grinned.

"Not in the way that I am, no... but you are mad. Not _quite _a hatter but..."

"What do you mean?" I asked, frustrated at being called crazy by someone like Moriarty.

"If you were _completely_ sane, entering an alternate universe would have broken your mind. The fact that you are here carrying on with your life as you are is proof that you're not quite right." He tapped his temple.

_Pause to let that sink in._

"I see what you're getting at but -"

"No buts. Now," He was suddenly at me feet, hands on my thighs, eyes blazing like fire. "Tell me what you know."

I was understandably alarmed but I had a firm enough grip on myself to refrain from kicking him away.  
Didn't want to be _shoes_ or anything like that...

"Everything." I breathed as he dragged me down to the floor. He had me pinned and I was hoping against all hope that he really was gay, and that this was just a frightening gesture.

"Do elaborate." He growled.

"_Literally_ everything. You plan to go on trial and be proved innocent and the children's show, and ruin Sherlock and... " I trailed off. His face was contorted with an emotion somewhere between rage and exhilaration.

"And Sherlock Holmes will fall."

"Yes." I said.

He stood and stared down at me.

"If you had lied, my day would have been more interesting. As it stands, however - " I sat up, eyes wide, surprised at the pace with which the scene was progressing. Although to be fair, he was a psychopath so predictability was a vain expectation.

"How do you know I'm telling the truth?" I asked.

"Because you are." He said dismissively. It was a simple statement, and a fact.

I struggled to stand, and his hand was on my arm helping me. I wasn't sure whether or not I was still in danger.

"Now." he said. "You can leave whenever you wish. I hope to see you very soon and - just know that even if you _do_ tell Sherlock - he won't believe you."

And because everything happening to me was ridiculous, I knew that he was right.

How would I have knowledge of such a plan, unless I was in league with Moriarty?

And the fact that I was abducted would give no weight to my argument if I were to try to persuade Sherlock. Moriarty would never reveal his plan to anyone.

I sighed.

It really was a Catch-22.

"There you go." He said, smiling at the grim recognition on my face. "Goodmorning."  
And then he strolled from the room, leaving the door open behind him.

I hesitated, but followed stepping out into the hallway of what appeared to be an abandoned building. Somewhere in the distance I heard a car engine.

Carefully, I made my way down several passages and finally stepped out into the chill morning air. There was an empty parking lot, and the roar of an engine shook the windows of the abandoned warehouse I had just exited as a jet passed overhead.

I was by the airport, hours away from Baker Street.  
No car, no shoes, and the cold rain was the icing on the shit cake that was my situation. I sighed and began walking.


End file.
